


Singularity

by southernraiders



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Accident, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26174251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southernraiders/pseuds/southernraiders
Summary: Katara meets Zuko a few months after she left.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Singularity

**HE HAD RECOVERED.**

When gold — _finally_ — met blue, it was the first thing she noticed. 

The scars which he had suffered, like the one on the right side of his forehead and the few on his cheeks and arms, had long disappeared. All except for the permanent scar on his left eye.

(Not that that particular scar did bother her. It never did. In fact, she had loved it, as much as she loved him.) 

( _Love_ , really. Present tense, not past, because she doubted there would ever be a day where she would stop.)

He looked well and healthy, and he was here, standing right in front of her. His arm, originally intending to push open the glass door, had faltered upon seeing her.

He was very, very much alive. She bit her bottom lip and tried to choke back a threatening sob. _Alive_. So unlike the sight which she had been forced to witness over and over again, every single day in her nightmares. 

She could see it now: him writhing on the ground, him bleeding so much until there was a large pool of blood beneath his head, him saying something to her, her shouting for him to just shut up and— 

“You left.”

She blinked, his words dragging her back to the present. _He is alive, Katara. He is_ not _dead._

“You left,” he repeated again, this time emphasising his words. At her blank look, he ran a hand through his hair frustratedly and continued. “I told you to wait for me in my ward, that I’d be back shortly, but you just left. You-”

“- left,” she finished his sentence with a wistful smile playing on her lips. “Yes, I remember.” 

“Why, Katara?”

* * *

**SHE WAS SCREAMING.**

It happened so slow, yet so quick. 

One moment he was at the other side of the road, flowers in one hand, the other hand waving enthusiastically at her; the next moment he was on the ground, the flowers about two metres away from him, his hands twitching. Blood was trickling from him. 

One moment she was at the other side of the road, directly opposite him, a broad grin on her face as she returned a wave to him, her eyes sparkling with so much adoration and happiness; the next moment she was striding across the road, her body seemingly moving on its own while her mind was still processing the whole thing, her knees scraped onto the ground so harshly as she dropped herself right next to his limp body. Tears were streaming down her face.

She was begging him to stop speaking — _“just conserve your damn energy, please”_ — but he was so stubborn, like always. He still rambled on, and on, and on, sometimes his words flowing out so smoothly, sometimes his words coming out so painfully as he choked and winced.

He was asking if she remembered their good memories — first hug, first kiss, first date, when he asked her to be his, the first time she met Uncle Iroh, when she stayed over at his apartment the first time, and so many more — and she had said yes repeatedly, her tears still clouding her eyes and falling from her eyelids. She had cut him off multiple times, choking out more “yes” like a broken recorder, pleading with him to just stop recounting those memories. 

Recounting of memories, in such moments, was never a good sign. She had seen it firsthand with her Gran Gran. 

The exact same thing had happened: Gran Gran on her deathbed, her recounting so many memories she had with Hadoka, then with Sokka, and finally with her. But while her Gran Gran had managed to recount every single good memory she had with her son, and her grandson, she did not manage to do so with her granddaughter. Halfway through, she breathed her last and her hand had gone limp in Katara’s. 

And this was literally _déjà vu_. 

Because, right at that very instant — _“remember when you met my mother for-”_ , his hand had slipped through hers and he had stopped breathing.

And so she screamed, a raw, strangled cry escaping from her throat. Her hands had immediately grabbed onto his shoulders and she had shook them as hard as she could. But his eyes were still shut — shut so peacefully, yet so tortured — and she found herself lowering her forehead to meet his, her sobs gradually drowning herself, drowning this very moment, drowning everything. 

She wished she was dead.

* * *

**THERE WAS SOMETHING** about witnessing such a horrific accident with her very own two eyes that made her world shift, and that it would be off its axis for a prolonged period of time.

Forever, even.

She had just prayed — to her mother, to her Gran Gran, to any and all the Gods out there — that it would not come in the form of his death. That her world going through a complete change would not be due to his death. 

She wanted him to be alive. She _needed_ him to be alive. 

She did not know how to live with herself if it was otherwise.

“… he is currently still unconscious,” the doctor had said to Ursa and Azula, and Katara looked up from a distance away. “The impact of the accident was severe. His brain suffered the most damage.” She found herself zoning out and desperately blinking back the burning hot tears gathering in her eyes. “… will only know more when he finally wakes up.” 

Ursa sat right next to Katara shortly after the doctor left, and took Katara’s hands gently. “He is fine, dear. Do not blame yourself and do not worry.”

She let out a shaky breath and nodded weakly. 

_Fine_.

She lost her mother. She lost her Gran-Gran.

But she did not lose him. 

He was _alive_. 

She registered the fact that Azula had been talking. “… brain damage, did you hear that, Katara?” She let her surroundings drown her once more, only snapping back to reality when Azula snapped her fingers right in front of her face. “He will not remember you.” 

Ursa shot her daughter a disapproving look.

“He might not remember you,” she corrected.

Katara simply ignored Azula. He used to say that his sister always lied.

_Azula is just lying._

* * *

**AZULA WAS RIGHT**.

Azula did not lie this time. 

But it did not occur to her until she walked into his ward the first time since he had woken up and she had seen Mai with him. Sitting right beside him on the bed.

He had eyed her calculatingly, the gaze in his eyes switching from adoration (directed to Mai) to sharp caution (directed to her) almost immediately.

“Who are you?” he asked frostily. 

“I’m… Katara,” she said slowly, a weight of uneasiness slowly settling on her chest, stifling her as the seconds went by. “You don’t… remember me?”

“No.”

“I’m your girlfriend.”

And then he flinched. 

Mai remained expressionless, although she seemed to be bored.

(But if Katara had bothered to stare a little longer, she might have caught the hint of nervousness on Mai’s face. A sense of unspoken fear.)

“What?” he choked out at last after an uncomfortable and awkward silence hung in the air. “You’re _not_ my girlfriend! _Mai_ is.” 

She felt her throat grow dry, her lips parted slightly as she blinked at him. She was ready to say something; ready to storm up to him and grab him by his collar to shout some sense into him. Call him an idiot, even.

But she simply stood rooted on the ground, feeling a stabbing pain in her heart.

“Well?” he pushed in annoyance when she remained silent. “How can you be my girlfriend if Mai is?”

“She… isn’t your girlfriend,” she insisted lamely. “I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I _am_.” 

“Then why do I remember her but not you?” 

* * *

**SHE TRIED TO** leave clues behind every time she visited him, when he was resting.

Clues which would remind him of her; of them — one of which was a bouquet of fire lilies. She left behind a stalk of white rose once.

As a last resort, she had removed the bracelet from her wrist and left it on the table right beside his bed. A bracelet he had customised — carved, to be exact — for her, specially for their third anniversary. 

He did not remember anything. 

Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

On that one occasion where he had been, rather unfortunately, awake when she did drop by, he even asserted once more that she was not his girlfriend; Mai was.

_Always so stubborn_ , she mused sadly when she exited his ward (he had thrown his pillow at her and shouted for her to leave him and Mai alone), her tears clouding her eyes for the hundredth time this month. 

* * *

**“DO YOU KNOW** what it’s like to lose someone?”

“Of course.”

“As in… lose them, but still see them from time to time? And they would look so happy. Happier, even, without you.”

She thought of her mother and her Gran Gran. They were dead — peacefully dead — which meant she would not, as the woman had said, see them from time to time. 

She did not answer the woman seated right next to her. She simply looked away into the distance, a cup of coffee in her hands.

(Black coffee. Bitter enough to keep her awake. She had been sleeping so little, about one to two hours a day, three hours if she was lucky, all because of the nightmares.)

“I loved him, you know, and I don’t think I ever stopped loving him.” The woman spoke again. “I know I’m his ex. His past. You… you used to be his present and his future.”

_Used_ , Katara noted cynically. _I'm now his past too._

“But… _but_ ,” the woman insisted vehemently, “when the two of you were together, I still loved him. I did not love him _any lesser_ than you do then. Even now, I do not love him any lesser than you do.”

She spared the woman a glance. 

“He taught me that it was okay to express my emotions. I was raised in a household where emotions were… unwelcomed, to say the least. But he made it okay. I lost him once, Katara. I… I just cannot afford to lose him _again_.” 

_Neither can I, Mai._

“Sorry, I have a lecture to attend,” she said instead as she stood up. 

She tried to ignore the way the woman had started to let her tears fall freely, too unbothered to wipe them away. She felt a pang in her chest.

“You asked if I knew what it was like to lose someone,” she muttered slowly and carefully, her voice barely a whisper, although her words seemed to be too loud for her ears. “The type where you would still see the person from time to time,” she gulped, a lump forming in her throat.

The woman looked up at her with absolute vulnerability painted on her face. 

“I think it is time for me to know what it’s like.” 

* * *

**THE NEXT TIME** she visited him, she came with a box that was filled with his clothes and his books.

He was having a consultation session with his doctor, which meant he was not in his ward. The only person who was in there was Azula, who very much looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here with her brother.

Katara passed the box over to Azula who had made a face of disgust as she eyed her brother’s belongings.

“You should just burn them,” she stated simply. 

Katara shrugged and looked at her instead. Her eyes had a tinge of sadness, something that was rare for Azula, and Katara resisted the urge to hug her. 

Azula and her brother might have always argued, with their relationship being rather rocky most of the time, but Katara and her had always been respectful and civil to each other. In fact, Katara had grown on Azula the same way Azula had grown on Katara, even if it was an unspoken thing. 

Azula was the very reason why Katara had started giving him a stalk of white rose whenever he tried to surprise her — unsuccessfully, because his hints always gave him away — with fire lilies. White roses symbolize purity and innocence, and she knew that he had always yearned for his childhood, the times where his family were idyllic, where Azula and him had been normal siblings. Siblings who loved each other and cared for each other, not siblings who pitted against each other.

(Things had been better though, when their mother came back into their lives, and their father was nowhere in the picture. But still, it was not really the same.)

“I… should go,” she said with a small smile, and Azula frowned even more. 

She knew that Azula wanted her to stay but Azula was Azula after all. There was no way she would say those words aloud, and admit her true feelings.

“Try not to miss me too much, Azula.” She teased. 

Katara was trying so, so hard to not cry and hug her.

Azula pondered for a moment, conflict written on her face, and then, “Try not to miss me too much, Katara.”

She blinked back her tears before Azula could see them.

“Unfortunately, I think I will,” she tried to laugh. “Goodbye, Azula.”

She had left the ward before the other could say something (she did not want to make things harder than it already was for the both of them), and had made her way to the lifts when she saw him coming out from one of them.

She stilled when he called her name.

“Yes?” she responded faintly.

“I… need to talk to you,” he said nervously. “It’s, uh, important. Please wait for me in my ward. I’ll be done real quick, I promise. I just have to go for another quick check-up. Ten minutes, tops. Wait for me.”

He left before she could reply to him.

She left before he was done with his check-up.

* * *

**“KATARA?”**

She snapped back to the present. He was still waiting for an answer. 

“Why did you leave?” he asked again, before directing her to the side of the cafe since they had been blocking the entrance unknowingly (much to many’s irritation).

“Just because,” she answered simply. “There wasn’t really a reason.”

“What?”

“I left because I thought I should. I was just so exhausted.” 

He waited for her to continue with a raised brow.

She sighed. “I didn’t see a point in trying anymore. You insisted so many times that Mai was your girlfriend and lashed out at me when I tried to make you recall our memories.”

He stayed silent. 

_Good, he should_ , she thought.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the fire lilies in the trash, as well as the white rose.” She closed her eyes briefly to steel herself, for when she spoke again, she asked, “I suppose you threw away my bracelet as well? The last thing I left behind for you?”

“No. I didn’t. It’s… still with me. I kept it.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to ask you about that, but you had left,” he revealed. “I chucked the bracelet away in the drawer when I first saw it. Didn’t have the guts to throw it away because it seemed so… important. I mean, it was carved so carefully and beautifully — the moon, the sun, and the stars.” He paused. “I only took it out the day before to inspect it because I was so damn bored. Thought I would just throw it away right after, until I noticed the letter ‘Z’ at the back of the pendant. I suppose it’s from my name? My date of birth was on there too, in a smaller font right below the ‘Z’.”

“Yes, it is from your name,” she answered his question. “You carved the pendant for me, by the way. Not the letter and your date of birth because those were stamped, I think. I meant the… moon, sun, and stars.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

He let out a loud sigh, pinching his nose bridge in frustration. “I’m still trying to make sense of you, Katara. I remember everything and everyone but _you_. I can’t remember who you are to me, I can’t remember us, and I can’t, for the life of me, remember our memories. Nothing. And it _sucks_. The only damn thing I have to make sense of you is the bunch of letters Azula found under my bed.”

She looked at him curiously this time. “Letters?”

“Yes,” he sighed again defeatedly. “I found Azula crying when I came back to my ward, you know. Expected to see you there, but I only saw my sister. _Crying_. I think it was the first time — apart from the times when we were kids — I saw her crying. She told me it was all _my_ fault and she even _pushed_ me. I fell, obviously, since I was still trying to get used to walking. My consultation sessions were for that. And, well, mother wasn’t exactly pleased that I fell down. Grounded Azula by making her clean the whole house.”

She continued staring at him, except this time, her jaw was hanging slightly. 

_Azula had cried after she left?_

“Azula found a box under my bed and had opened them,” he rolled his eyes (a little fondly, she observed). “She never knew what privacy was. My privacy, at least. But yeah, she took the letters out and read them, and upon hearing my mother and I enter the door after I was discharged, she stormed down with the letters in her hand, and flung them at my face. That little brat screamed at me, you know. First, she pushed me. Then, she screamed at me. She cursed me with… her usual profanities. So… yeah, that was how I found out about the letters, and that you were _indeed_ my girlfriend.” 

“Oh.” She did not quite know what she should say, truth to be told. “You did write me letters in the past,” she told him instead, “You were — are — quite old-fashioned sometimes, thus the letters. Love letters, to be specific. I… preferred text messages, but after a while, I did write you back. It was our thing, I suppose.”

“I figured. The letters under my bed… the majority were from you. The rest were draft letters I had written, I think. Lots of cancellation and planning.” He let out a small laugh. 

She allowed herself to smile this time. She missed his laughter.

It felt odd to smile because of him, especially since all she had done the past two months (close to three) was cry because of him. 

She saw him fidget.

“Yes? Did you want to ask something?” 

“I… who are you to me, Katara? Who am I to you?”

She blinked, definitely not expecting that question. “Your girlfriend. _Ex_ -girlfriend, to be specific.”

He was clearly unamused, if him crossing his arms and staring at her in such a deadpan way were supposed to serve as indicators. 

She huffed a breath, knowing deep down that he was not asking her that question for such an answer. 

She pondered for a moment, nervously playing with her fingers. “Do you remember liking Physics in high school?” She waited for him to nod, and when he did, she continued. “You told me once that someone in your class asked about the black hole, and that your teacher had ended up telling you guys about something called Singularity.”

“Singularity?”

She nodded slowly, her eyes fixated on the ground. “I’m not exactly a Physics person, but from what I recall, you mentioned that Singularity means a point in space-time, at which matter has infinite density and infinitesimal volume and… what was that word? Um… the curvature? Wait… yeah. Right. So matter has infinite density and infinitesimal volume and the curvature of space-time is also infinite. Basically, if I'm not wrong, Singularity follows the concept of infinity.” 

“God, was I a Physics nerd?” he gawked at her. “I could have just told you that I learnt about infinity, not 'Singularity'.”

“Well, you did say that Singularity sounded better and cooler than Infinity,” she shrugged, a small teasing smile playing on her lips again. He made a face.

“You’re my Singularity, Zuko,” she revealed at last, finding it extremely hard to look at him. “Even if we’re not together now, and that you’re somewhat my 'past', it doesn’t change anything. I would — _will_ — still love you. You’re also my 'present' and my 'future', even if you don’t feel the same. You’ll always play an important role in my life, even if you’re not a part of it.” 

He had remained silent, and she took the opportunity to go on. _Now or never_. 

“Someone had asked me once whether I believed in reincarnations and alternate universes, and I had said no. They had asked further if, in the event I did believe in those, I wanted my life to be the same as this version I’m currently living in. I didn’t even take a second to think. I just said yes. Because there is _no way_ I would be able to envision or live a life without you. If I were to believe in reincarnations and alternate universes, I know for a fact that you would still play an important role in my life, and that I will still love you. That, Zuko, is who you are to me.”

Her teasing smile had been long replaced by a wistful one instead. She leveled her emotions, and willed herself to not tear up. She would not have herself crying today, not when she could finally see him and see that he was well, healthy, and very much alive; not when she was finally having a proper conversation with him.

“I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. “I’m really sorry, Katara. For forgetting you, and hurting you because of it.”

“It’s… alright. It was my fault you had gotten into the accid-”

“It _wasn’t_ your fault, Katara,” he interrupted harshly. “Accidents happen. I was just unlucky.”

“But lucky too,” she muttered. “You could have been dead.”

He gave her a boyish grin. “Yeah. But I’m fine now, see?”

A half-smile as she met his eyes. “I’m glad.”

He ran a hand through his hair again, then looking up at the sky, the sun shining brightly on his face. His eye colour, under the sun, was still her favourite shade of gold. Her heart skipped a beat.

She could fall in love with him over, and over, and over again, and she would never, ever get tired of doing so. 

He was her Singularity, after all. 

Then, he looked back at her, before holding a hand up, and in a dorkish manner, he introduced himself with a grin on his face. “Hello, Zuko here.”

And finally, after a few months of not doing so genuinely, she laughed, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His grin had grown a little larger, and he noted the way his heart had warmed at the sound of it.

Perhaps there were some things the heart would never forget, even if the mind did.

“Starting over, huh?” she mused. “Hello Zuko, I’m Katara. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry if you teared up at some point like my friend (i swear i did cut down on the angst as much as i could)
> 
> also, it has been years since i studied physics, but i hope whatever i mentioned about singularity is more or less accurate, especially since i did refer to google as well
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
